


loud and clear

by sarcasticfishes



Series: light on her [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia has a message to deliver, and there's a discussion to be had. She rarely allows herself to be distracted, but maybe just this once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	loud and clear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mykindofchaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mykindofchaos/gifts).



> I thought I was finished with this series but apparently this is a thing I do when I'm on flu medicine. For Jo because. Reasons.

“I think my mom likes your dad,” was the first thing Lydia said when she burst into Stiles’ bedroom. He was on his stomach in his bed, arms tucked under his pillow. It was still early, and Lydia knew if she tried talking to him now, she’d just have to repeat it again later.

“Wha-?”

“You think by now I’d have learned to text you first to make sure you were awake,” she said. Stiles murmured and bowed his neck to burrow under the pillow. Lydia took a seat at his desk, his laptop left idling on the surface. She touched the track-pad and the monitor came to life, showing that Stiles’ browser was filled with multiple Wikipedia pages and blogs.

“Up all night on a wiki trail?” she asked.

“Wicked bad one,” Stiles murmured happily, “Ask me anything about Banshee mythology. Do it. I know it all.”

Lydia stifled a laugh, crossing her legs as she peeped through the tabs on his screen.

“You know that basically nothing of this applies to me?” she asked, but still felt warm at the thought of him going to this trouble for her, the thought of him staying up until 4am trying to understand her powers better.

“I know. But it’s interesting. And it makes me _think_ of you, and that’s always a plus.”

Lydia toed off her heels with a smile, and swivelled the chair in Stiles’ direction. He was peeking out at her from between the pillow and mattress, grinning, and never in her life did she think that one look from _Stiles Stilinski_ could leave her so wanting.

“My dad home?” he asked, hoarsely, like he knew what she was thinking.

“No. Let me in on his way to work,” she replied.

“I’m naked in here,” Stiles lifted his head out from under his pillow, and it’s not like she hadn’t noticed his bare shoulders (so broad, _god_ she loved them) when she’d barged into the room earlier, but Stiles was becoming more and more inclined to sleep shirtless so she hadn’t really thought much of it. Him being _completely_ naked? That was something new.

“Special occasion?” she asked.

“New sheets,” Stiles grinned, propping himself up on his elbow, hand in his hair, “They’re amazing. You should come try them out with me.”

She wasn’t going to need much convincing anyway.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, already unzipping her skirt. Stiles had that look in his eyes that he usually got when he watched her, appreciative open-mouthed awe. She wanted nothing more than to climb in next to him and kiss him until they forgot everything. It was possible.

He was the one that reached up to unclasp her bra and pull her down into his arms, tugging the covers over them both. One thing Lydia had never expected to love about Stiles was his bed. Her own bed was a king, the mattress was perfect, the sheets were expensive, and her pillows were thick and fluffy, and she’d always thought that nothing could compare.

But she loved Stiles’ bed. Maybe because he was in it, maybe because it was a place where she was always warm and held and loved and satisfied. Stiles was always eager to please, to get his hands on her and make her feel good, whether she wanted to be fucked or just held and kissed - she could feel the care behind it. Lydia felt it was possible that Stiles was just a ridiculously good boyfriend.

“I missed you last night,” he said, like she didn’t already know from the tabs on his computer. Friday nights were usually Stiles-and-Lydia nights, for dates and couple-y things, but Lydia’d had to postpone last night due to an important assignment deadline set by one of her extracurricular classes. She rarely left things until last minute, but it happened.

“Bet you did,” she smirked, but she too had felt like something was missing when she had to slide into bed alone at 12am. If she’d known Stiles was still awake, she’d have called. Asked him to come to her. Even driven over herself, “I missed you too.”

Stiles gave her a soft, easy smile and tucked his face into her neck, licking at the skin, nipping softly. Lydia rarely allowed for hickies (although she didn’t mind giving them when her boyfriend had such a delectable neck) but today she didn’t mind, feeling Stiles slip a thigh between hers and bundle her closer.

He groaned against her throat, and with an arm around her hips he hitched her up around his waist until she could feel his cock against her heat. He wasn’t urgent or needy, she knew he wasn’t wanting for anything, just enjoying being with her. It was a good feeling, to be with someone like that.

Being at this point of comfort and trust with Stiles was truly a thing of beauty. No one else got to see him like this, naked and imperfect in the broad daylight. He must have showered the night before, his hair a mussed and unstyled mop sweeping over his brow, jaw a little stubbly in a way it rarely ever was, his skin warm and flushed with sleep. And he just looked so _pretty_.

“You’re so pretty,” she echoed her thoughs, and he laughed, kissing her mouth, big hands spread over her hips. He has come to terms with her compliments.

“Guess that makes us pretty-squared.”

“That’s ridiculous, I don’t know why I like you.”

“Because despite this whole banshee business, it’s hard for anyone to make you scream like I do.”

“I hate you. Stop talking.”

“I am a wordsmith. Don’t front, I know you love it. My mouth is a temple at which you should worship-”

She reached up to pinch his lips closed and he muffled a laugh.

“Give me your hand,” she said, because despite the obvious vulgarity of what he said, nothing turned her on like how low his voice got when he wanted to fuck. He groaned quietly as he put his hand in hers, easily being led down between her legs. It’s all the guidance he ever needs, knowing the rest off by heart.

His hands were big, more like paws than anything, but they never felt bigger than when he was cupping her mound in his palm, sliding two fingers against her entrance.

“Perfect,” he murmured, “You always feel so-”

“You ruin me,” she countered, and he chuckled quietly against her mouth,

“No,” he said, and deftly slid both fingers all the way inside, “ _Perfect_. Always perfect.”

He moved her onto her back, better leverage to fuck his fingers into her as her leg curled around his thigh and she thrust up against him. He always seemed to enjoy this as much as she did, his cock thick and heavy between his legs. He loved to make her come, repeatedly, and then jerk off over her with his wet slick hand when they’d both gotten their fill.

He rolled his thumb against her clit, her body arching up against him as he sucked a dusky pink nipple into his mouth, teeth against the flesh of her breast. It made her cry out, shaking as she came around his fingers. His arm tightened around her waist as she bowed, and his mouth fell open when his cock grazed against her pussy, his fingers still pressed deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, and she licked into his open mouth.

“Yeah,” she said, Please?”

It was a rare thing, having his actual cock inside her. It was less risky to get off using their hands and mouths, between parents in the house and birth control matters. And it was usually just as good. But today they were alone, naked, in the empty Stilinski house, and Lydia _wanted_.

He _mmm_ ’d against her throat, and reached out for the bottom drawer, the same one she knew he kept his lube in. They wouldn’t need it, she could see her slick trail down his wrist when he finally took his hand from her. She didn’t remember ever being as wet as he made her.

His grin was shy but bright as he showed her the condom, carefully tearing the package open, neatly sliding it down the shaft of his cock.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, and she made a soft affirming noise as she tilted her hips up to him. He pushed forward slowly, and moaned, _really_ moaned as he filled her, until it felt like there was nothing but him inside her. A ridiculous thought, she knew, but he made her kind of crazy.

His thrusts were achingly slow, nothing like they ever had been before, building a slow and deep kind of burn inside her. It might be enough to get her off if he lasted long enough.

“Stiles,” she breathed, and he pressed his mouth to hers, not kissing her but just touching. It was painfully intimate, and she realised he wasn’t fucking her but – _fuck_ – definitely making love to her. The thought caught in her throat with another moan, and a grunt of her name from his mouth.

Lydia caught on to his rhythm, slowly undulating her hips up in response. She felt like she was burning up, and he was so hot and he was everywhere, covering her and filling her.

One of his hands came down beneath the pillow under her head, and he pushed himself up for a better angle, and it felt like he wasn’t even pulling out with his thrusts anymore. It was like rolling in with the tide, something new she’d never felt.

“ _Stiles_ ,” she said again, higher this time, breathier, and his response was – arms and hands shaking – to grind deeper into her, his pelvic bone against her clit.

“C’mon,” he murmured, as she lifted her head to try kiss him. He was shaking with the effort, sweat shining his skin, “Wanna feel you come. I got you, c’mon.”

He broke his roll to thrust into her sharply, and that extra push sent her over the edge, she couldn’t hold back her cries, her screams, as he finally pressed her down into the mattress, pounded her through her orgasm.

When the haze faded he was still moving inside her, kisses turning sloppy the way they did when he was about to come.

“Let me see you,” she breathed, and he quickly pulled out, slid the condom off with careful hands and wrapped his palm around the thick length of his cock. Lydia turned over on her stomach beneath him, pulling her hair over she shoulder to show him the long expanse of her back, the perfect roundness of her ass. He slipped his cock between the cheeks, the flat of his fingers pressing down as he thrust against her.

Lydia craned her head over shoulder, whined at the sight of him, almost delirious with his need to come. She pushed her hand down between the sheets and her torso, fingers testing at the lips of her pussy, feeling out how wet she was, how open her left her. The touch made her jump, and moan, and his eyes caught hers as he realised what she was doing.

Seconds later he was coming, dropping his head below his shoulders, pressed against her skin as he bowed over her. She felt the warm wetness of his orgasm against her skin as he shuddered, his free hand digging into her hip hard enough to leave bruises that she looked forward to seeing.

When he finally caught his breath, he lifted his head and Lydia laughed fondly, swiping a little come off his chin with her thumb and pressing it into her mouth. He groaned, turning her over onto her back (she grimaced as she felt the semen on her skin sticking to the sheets) and bracketed her in with his arms.

Flushed, sweaty, so goddamn gorgeous.

“I love you,” she said coolly, brushing her hand against his arm as his face split into a grin.

“I love _you_ ,” he added, kissing her mouth carefully, before dropping down onto the sheets next to her. It was the first time they said it, but it wasn’t a huge deal, and she liked it that way.

“You ruined your new sheets,” she said, sitting up to separate herself from said bed linen and Stiles pulled a face before reaching from some tissues.

“Worth it.”

After a Lydia approved period of time cuddling, she helped Stiles put his sheets in the laundry, they shared a quick shower (in which Lydia marvelled at the fact and Stiles had one of her floral shower caps in the cabinet under the sink and only teased her a little when he helped her tuck her hair inside it), and they decided to go out for breakfast.

“You drive here?” Stiles asked, pulling on a t-shirt as Lydia gathered her shoes from beside his desk.

“I did. Do you want to drive into town?”

“Of course,” he said, “Then you’ll have no choice but to come back here afterwards and spend the day with me.”

“Not much of a hardship,” Lydia admitted.

She led the way down the stairs, climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep and watched Stiles locking up the house before he got in next to her. They were roughly five minutes from the diner they had settled on when Lydia remembered why she’d showed up at Stiles’ house in the first place.

“Oh, hey, there was a reason I came by this morning. A reason that wasn’t sex.”

Stiles looked over briefly, tongue against his bottom lip as he made a questioning noise.

“My mom totally has a crush on your dad.”

Stiles looked at her. Looked at her again. Did a double and triple take.

“Wh- are you _serious_?”

Lydia nodded, “Ever since we bumped into you two at the supermarket. She made some weird comment like, ‘I see where Stiles gets his looks from’. Which is ridiculous, because while you’re both very handsome it’s obvious that you take after your mother in your looks. You get your habits from your father.”

Stiles made a contemplative noise then, apparently not feeling very verbal.

“And she keeps hinting that we should invite the two of you over for dinner.”

“I like having dinner with you and your mom,” Stiles said, smiling.

“And I like having dinner with you and your dad, but putting the two of them together?”

“Might be a little weird,” Stiles agreed, “But let’s just get something to eat and not… think about it. Harshing my vibe here.”

“We did have a really good morning,” Lydia agreed, and from the corner of her eye she saw Stiles grinning out through the windshield.

“We did,” he said, catching his hands, “we always do.”


End file.
